


withdrawal

by whereshiphappens (xiiis16)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drunk Sex, First Time, Jealous Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, i still dont know how i feel about this to be completely honest with yall, im so sorry, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiiis16/pseuds/whereshiphappens
Summary: Stiles head is a mess. The jealousy that’s burning under his skin is building up in his chest in a way that barely lets him breathe and deep down he knows, he does know that he’s turning this on Theo. That he’s going into defense mode for a stupid reason, drunk and fed up of waiting for Theo to come after him again. And he’s doing a pretty fucking shitty job at it because,fuck, Theo can probably see right through him, but it’s so much easier to be jealous and angry, than jealous andhurt.Because jealous and hurt means he cares.
Relationships: Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 109





	withdrawal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkstiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkstiles/gifts).



> this is one of the most self indulgent things i wrote in a long time lmao it is also for [the absolute angel that is @theoraeken ](https://theoraeken.tumblr.com/), give her a follow and go appreciate the stuff she makes because she deserves it and she single handedly keeps my muse going and i fucking love her to death.
> 
> besides wanting to write something that's pure pwp i have no other excuse for this, to be honest lol but i do hope you like it. the porn was a lot harder to write than i was expecting. i'm out of practice i'm sorry.
> 
> i love you, thank you for reading

* * *

Reaching for his wallet, Stiles is still able to go through his cards and pick the right one to hand to the bartender as he asks for yet another one of those spiced rum drinks. Isaac had shown those to him forever ago, when he was still here, and not in fucking France.

It’s not a very gracious thing, he feels his hands already a bit numb, but the guy behind the counter just smiles at him and gives him what he wants - it’s not like he can properly see Stiles’ glazed eyes or how he keeps biting his numb lower lip like he does when he’s this drunk. Scott says it’s his tell, it’s how he knows when Stiles should probably stop drinking.

But it’s okay, Scott is with Liam somewhere, because Liam is way worse than Stiles is and he is the kind of drunk that needs constant vigilance, specially when Hayden is around, which she is, obviously, she  _ works here _ \- Scott likes the older brother role anyway.

The girls are around somewhere too, but they don’t really know Stiles’ tell, Malia might be just as drunk as Stiles is, judging by the way she was annoying Kira with her too happy dancing when Stiles left them, and Lydia is the only one perceptive enough to get why Stiles wants to be this fucked up and not get in his way.

He’s here tonight too. Theo. Stiles has caught glimpses of him earlier talking to that fucking girl that’s always around him.

Stiles shakes his head as if to physically shake off the thought, drinks some of the spiced rum cocktail for good measure. It doesn’t really work.

He pulls out his phone and knows just checking it is a bad idea, but refuses to think about it when he opens his messages and clicks Theo’s name, scrolls up to his older conversations. It’s such a stupid thing to do, he knows, but all it takes is seeing Theo talking to his  _ friends _ and suddenly he doubts everything, is convinced it’s all a product of his imagination. Especially when Theo hasn’t said anything in a while.

Everything that happened he doubts, from the most subtle suggestive conversations, to the teasing, from the serious discussions of all sorts of topics to the time he caught Stiles after practice and they made out for the first time in a horrible steam filled deserted locker room. 

_ Shit.  _ Stiles locks his phone again.

He’s pretty sure he knows why Theo hasn’t said anything in a while, too. Fucking  _ Tracy _ must be so much easier to deal with anyway. It must get really tiring to put up with Stiles’ paranoia and his walls and his absolute resolve to never breathe a word of what they’re doing to anyone,  _ especially _ not Scott.

Scott doesn’t hate or dislike a lot of people, if any, really. But Theo manages to be the exception to that rule, Stiles hates that the pseudo forbideness aspect of it only serves to attract him further to Theo. 

And Stiles’ mind is tricky and dumb and paranoid and fucking  _ ruthless _ and restless and he can’t stop the thought, every now and then, that the reason why Theo is even remotely interested in Stiles is to piss Scott off.  _ I fucked your best friend _ . A blow to Scott’s ego and Stiles is all but collateral damage in their stupid rivalry.

Sometimes, he feels like confronting Theo with it, thinks about going over to him, take him by the fucking collar and push him against a wall and scream at him - and then his minds run loose and he ends up squirming in his jeans instead, thinking about how much he wants to hurt Theo and how much he wants Theo to hurt him back just as much.

_ Fuck _ . 

With his defenses lowered like this, with his brain too fast and too slow at the same time to catch itself, a raw thought comes to him just then that he doesn’t care that much if he is. And that’s the real reason why he doesn’t confront Theo about it, that’s the real reason he keeps quiet and waits until Theo’s messages come in, until he corners him again in some deserted place of the school and kisses him like he’s been hungry for it for years. 

Stiles is hungry too. And he’s selfish, and he can’t give up the absolute thrill that is being around Theo. He feelings like an addict going through withdrawal and the symptoms catching up to him and reason abandoning him. Fuck what anybody else might think, fuck what  _ he  _ thinks, he wants and he wants and he wants and it’s going to fucking suffocate him.

_ Shit, shit, shit. _

It’s too much to let his head run wild with it. He downs the stupid drink in his hand, slaps it back on the counter. A sudden urge to see him overwhelms Stiles in such a way he’s moving before he even processes it. Theo is here, he doesn’t need his fucking phone, Stiles thinks as he pockets it again. Theo is here, and Stiles is drunk and dumb and  _ tired _ of pretending like he doesn’t like Theo’s attention, like he doesn’t thrive under those hungry looks he gives him, like Stiles is the best damn thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

No one’s ever looked at Stiles like that. He doesn’t want Theo to look at anyone else like that.

Stiles’ eyes scan all over the place for Theo. He moves between people, he pushes hands and bodies away, his attention zeroed in on finding him, on getting Theo to look at Stiles, take a real good look at Stiles, remember everything that happened between them, that  _ can _ happen between them and still  _ dare _ to look away. 

With Josh and Tracy in a corner of the place, Stiles spots Theo. Tracy has her hand on his arm while she tells him something and tries to make him move towards the middle of the dancefloor.

He hates, hates,  _ hates _ the way it makes his gut twist and his blood boil. He hates the girl even more. And he hates Theo for doing this to him the worst.

He’s not thinking anymore, his lips in a tense line pushing people out of his way, barely registering their protests as he goes. Theo doesn’t see him coming, and it’s Tracy’s “ _ Hey! _ ” that he hears as he takes Theo by the collar, heart beating so fucking fast in his chest he’s sure it’d fail, if it wasn’t for the adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

The force of the impact pushes Theo back a few feet, but Stiles is on him, eyes locked. 

He stares at him. Just stares. Watches as Theo’s eyes take a second to go all over Stiles’ face before he squints at him, his mouth parts and he returns Stiles’ stare silent, even though there are a million things Stiles can read in his eyes. 

_ Go ahead. Do it. _

Kiss me? Hit me? 

Stiles doesn’t know, never does.

His hands tighten on the fabric of his shirt before he growls at him, jaw tense and he lets him go with a push, a look Tracy’s way and back to Theo before he’s turning to walk away.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” he can hear Tracy scream. Only a couple steps away does he turn to look back. Theo’s still looking at Stiles as he holds Tracy back by the arm when she clearly tried going after Stiles, and again Stiles is burning with how angry it makes him.

But then, when she turns back around to step closer to Theo, he pushes her away, isn’t gentle at all about it, and starts coming after Stiles instead.

He turns back around then, a heavy exhale rattling his whole body as the image of Theo pushing her away and following  _ him _ instead starts being processed and his body starts heating up in waves that travel all the way down to his lower belly.

The back and forth of emotions is leaving him fucking  _ dizzy. _

Stiles is in the corridor to the bathroom before he knows he’s heading there in the first place. Theo is right behind him. He turns around as he reaches the wall on the far end of it, lets his body fall against it - fuck, he’s drunk. Stiles opens his eyes, looks at Theo.

“Having fun?” he asks, bitter.

Theo keeps walking towards him, slowly. “What are you talking about?” Theo asks, eyes narrowing, tilting his head in that way he does when he starts reading Stiles from head to toe. 

“You-” Stiles blurts before he stops himself, scrunches up his face, twists his body as he brings his closed fist to bite on in frustration before he looks at Theo again. He hates it when he acts all coy like this, “You  _ know _ . You know what you’re doing, you fucking prick,” Stiles’ filter is gone. “You rile me the fuck up, you say all those things to pull me in, have me make a mess of my head and my life, and then you- am I suddenly not enough?” he laughs, sounds just a bit maniac, “Is it because I won’t let you put your dick in me? Did you get tired of waiting?” his laugh fades into a sardonic smile and his voice deflates a little, “Is the game not fun enough anymore?”

Stiles head is a mess. The jealousy that’s burning under his skin is building up in his chest in a way that barely lets him breathe and deep down he knows, he does know that he’s turning this on Theo. That he’s going into defense mode for a stupid reason, drunk and fed up of waiting for Theo to come after him again. And he’s doing a pretty fucking shitty job at it because,  _ fuck _ , Theo can probably see right through him, but it’s so much easier to be jealous and angry, than jealous and  _ hurt _ . 

Because jealous and hurt means he cares and he fucking- he can’t-

Suddenly it dawns on him the situation he got himself into.Words are difficult and heavy and trying to say what he wants even more. This isn’t it. This is too raw, and too honest, too unfiltered, too exposed, too vulnerable. The realization feels sharp ripping right through his inebriation. He needs to get out of here, he’s fucking up, he’s-

There’s people coming in and out of the bathrooms a couple steps away from them, and none of them seem too bothered to even take a second glance at them, although there’s a vending machine just half in the way, none of them even blink when Stiles tries to pass by Theo, but Theo takes him by the arm and twists him around back into place, trapping him there. 

“What are you saying?” Theo breathes, steady, way too close to his face for Stiles to be able to think properly. And he looks at Stiles like he knows exactly what Stiles is thinking, but wants to hear him speaking it out loud anyway. Like he wants that satisfaction, like the fucking asshole that he is.

“Go back to fucking  _ Tracy _ , leave me the fuck alone,” Stiles bites back before he can stop himself, pushes against Theo in defiance. Theo brings a hand to his chest, pushes him back into place against the wall, and keeps the weight of it there, slowly rising up to Stiles’ neck.

“Aw,” Theo coos, mocking, fake sweet, “you’re jealous.”

It pisses Stiles off even further, has him trashing against Theo’s hand, has him slapping it away, “Let me go.”

Theo’s attitude changes, like he understands, after a false start, that this is not the way to deal with this. “No,” Theo says, firm, serious. “You rattle my fucking brain, you know that?” Theo tells him, uses his hips to pin Stiles down further and his eyes soften. 

“Shh,” Theo goes softly, like he’s calming a wild animal. Stiles melts just a little into him, although he still feels a little out of it, too breathless for his own good. “You’re so smart, but you think yourself dumb. Are you seriously getting jealous when you know that you,  _ only you _ , can have whatever you want from me the second you ask for it?”

Stiles closes his eyes, lets the words wash over him and tries to control his breathing. He wants to give in so much, he feels lightheaded. “What is it that you want? Tell me, you know I’ll give it to you,” he nuzzles into Stiles’s neck and Stiles’ can’t help the loud exhale that escapes through his lips.

He thinks of all the times he stopped Theo from kissing him before they kissed for the first time, he thinks of all the conversations in which Theo was the first one to step up and say exactly what was on his mind, he thinks of every time he ripped himself away from Theo before things escalated to a level Stiles wasn’t comfortable with yet. 

Why did he do that? Stiles knows the logic behind it, he knows it, but he can’t remember right now what logical reason on Earth can there be not to give in to Theo and to this and everything he feels. 

And a desperation that he can’t quite describe settles in, when he thinks of being too late and Theo giving up on him and going after someone new.

He groans, his hands come up to Theo’s arm to steady himself.

“Stiles.” Theo calls, catches his attention. “Stop thinking.” He commands, because he knows Stiles’ brain. Then, he adds, “ask. Use your big boy words, kitten.”

There’s no words that come to Stiles mouth. He whines, pushes against the hold Theo has on him and slams his mouth into Theo’s instead, parted lips, tongue first, desperate; holds on to Theo by the arm and kisses him like the fucking world is going to end because in his stupid fucked up brain, right now, it feels like it. And what else has he got to lose at this point?

“I want you.” He says against Theo’s lips, “I want to know what you’re thinking, I’m so fucking  _ tired _ , Theo,” he continues, and his heart skips a painful beat when he realises that he could cry with the amount of shit he’s feeling all at once. “I want my brain to stop,” Stiles moans as Theo kisses his jaw, “I want you to fuck me, until my brain stops.”

And Theo rips away from him so fast that Stiles gets whiplash, he’s sure. It’s too fast and he barely processes how he’s being pulled by a hand, right into the old disabled bathroom that he knows is out of service, serving only to stock all sorts of boxes, empty crates and cleaning products. Theo turns him around again and pushes him against the now locked door of the bathroom. 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Theo mumbles as he takes both his hands to cup Stiles’ face, a little breathless, but still with the edge of his smirk blinking into the words and he takes a moment to look at Stiles properly. His pupils are blown and there’s a shade of pink bleeding into his cheeks that is never there - it’s gets Stiles high.

“You drive me crazy, you have no fucking clue,” Theo whispers burying his nose in Stiles’ neck as Stiles wraps his hands around Theo’s shoulders, brings his head back and his eyes flutter shut when he feels Theo’s warm breath down his neck in huffs. “You say those things and then just expect me to behave? You sick bastard,” Theo complains, finishes the insult with a winded laugh and comes back to kiss Stiles hard, his hands travelling down and around his torso to stop at his ass, taking a handful of it and  _ squeeze _ .

It’s a bit too much at once, and Stiles’ mouth opens in an almost pained gasp, brows knitted up together.

“Sick bastard? Me?” Stiles starts, although he can barely focus, “You gonna fuck me for the first time in a dirty bathroom and I’m the sick one?”

Stiles feels, before he catches up to what’s happening, the sharp pull on the back of his head, where Theo is pulling at his hair,  _ hard.  _ Hard enough to get Stiles to moan out loud, both ways in pain and how much it turns him on.

“I swear to fuck, I could break you in half,” Theo grunts through his teeth speaking with his mouth right up against Stiles’ jaw before biting at it as he thrusts up against his thigh. “If you don’t stop teasing me-” Stiles interrupts Theo with a sharp, almost yelled “ _ I want it!” _ rough voice and unfocused dazed eyes framed with wild hair and a red mouth.

The look Theo gives him is impossible to read - his mouth is parted and his eyes are going all over his face only to come back and lock with Stiles’. His hand stays on Stiles’ hair, holding his head bent back and it’s making Stiles so hard he can swear that he’s already making a mess in his boxers.

Heat is crawling all over his body, he pushes his hips against Theo as they keep going in small movements. God he’s going to crawl out of his skin with how much he wants it, and he can’t afford Theo not believing him.

“I want you so bad, and I don’t know how to tell you,” Stiles says, as Theo starts kissing and nipping at his neck again.

“You’re doing a good job so far,” Theo mumbles in between kisses, against Stiles’ skin and he wants to fucking hit him for the way he can hear the teasing in his voice, even in the middle of  _ this _ .

“Words have too much meaning,” Stiles says instead, closing his eyes, grabbing at Theo’s shoulders to stay steady. He knows Theo will know exactly what that means, even if his own brain is a tangled mess right now, “But I’m so tired, Theo, of- of,” his voice fails when Theo’s hands slide to the front of his jeans, palm flat on his lower belly, “of keeping myself from what I want I-  _ Mmm, _ ” another moan is ripped out of him when Theo’s fingers push past the top of his jeans, teasing him.

“I wanna fucking scream,” Stiles continues, looking Theo right in the eyes - he smirks back at Stiles with an almost wolvish look on his eyes, like he’s daring Stiles to do just that before stealing a quick,  _ wet _ peck from Stiles’ parted mouth.

Stiles groans, “and it makes me  _ angry _ ,” he says, teeth gritted, closing his eyes to control his thoughts, “just like when you don’t fucking talk to me and keep hanging out with that  _ fucking _ girl,” he gives Theo a push, has him taking a step back in surprise, out of balance for a second there. God, it’s driving him crazy, it’s fucking doing his head in the violence of his feelings towards it, how he can’t let it go.

His breathing gets all worked up, “Why?! You’ve got to know th-” there’s a pressure behind his eyes, something uncomfortable in his throat that comes out of nowhere and doesn’t let him speak properly, leaves Theo frowning at him, “you’ve got to know what it does to me.” 

It’s a pathetic whine and Stiles hates how his eyes are watering, hates where this is going but can’t stop himself. “You’ve got to know what she wants you, why do you keep her around? She can’t hav-” he breathes a groan out, brings his fists to his forehead, grimaces at where his head is going, what his mouth is saying, but  _ can’t stop himself. _

“I swear to fucking god, Theo, I-,” he looks up at Theo, the tears in his eyes spilling with the movement of his head and Theo steps into his personal space again, takes his face in his hands, fingers messily wiping Stiles’ tears as he brings his forehead to rest against his for just a moment.

“Stiles, stop,” Theo whispers, kisses his mouth. “I don’t care about her,” he says it softly, and Stiles’ chest does this weird fluttering that comes with relief, “I don’t care about anyone that isn’t you.”

Stiles bites his lip, shut his eyes, squeezes them closed and more tears fall out for Theo to wipe away, like they never happened. He wants it to be true.

“Prove it to me,” Stiles says, voice coming out raspy with all the damn stupid emotions, his hands hold on to Theo’s shirt, pull him impossibly closer as he arches his back just a little, hips coming forward. He kisses him, laps at Theo’s lower lip bites on it, “c’mon Theo, right here, now, c’mon,” he encourages. Theo mouths at his jaw, and Stiles sighs, closes his eyes. 

“Right here?” Theo repeats against his skin, pushes his weight against Stiles’ to pin him to the door, “Against a door, on a public place,  _ drunk? _ ”

“ _ Please,”  _ Stiles whines. 

“Want it that bad, babe?” Theo teases, hands travelling beneath his shirt to touch the skin of his stomach - Stiles feels it burn. His brain is boiling but his eyes are still wet and the mix of emotions makes him dizzy, feverish almost. Stiles can only nod with his whine, moans at the pressure of Theo against his crotch again, starts moving against it helplessly.

“Here I thought I was the one dying for it, but look at you,” Theo carries on as his hands start fumbling with the belt and button of Stiles’ jeans, “so willing, so putty in my hands, so  _ hard _ ” he whispers on Stiles’ ear, and Stiles feels it as a chill going down his back.

He can’t deny it either. He’s hard, his emotions are a mess, he feels frustrated and desperate and so turned on he feels like crawling out of his own skin. 

“I could do whatever I wanted to you, couldn’t I?” Theo mumbles as he slides his hand into his jeans, teasing him over his underwear, making Stiles’ breath itch. “And you’d just take it like a good little boy, I know you would.”

“ _ Theo,” _ Stiles drags his name, means it as a warning and a plea, has his leg coming up as he grinds against Theo’s hand - he must look so ridiculous. And the most alarming part is, he doesn’t care at all, as long as he gets what he wants. Theo’s free hand comes up to grab his hair, pull his head back, “But sometimes you forget how to be a good boy, don’t you, Stiles? Acting out on me, I ought to fuck you back into place.”

Stiles groans, it comes out of him louder than he expects, pulls at something in his chest and in his gut that twists in the warmest most delicious place and he feels his dick twitching,  _ leaking _ .

“And are you?” Stiles breathes, barely able to open his eyes with the sensations going through his body, “or are you just going to stand there and talk about i-  _ ugh”  _ he gets cut off as Theo finally wraps his hand around Stiles’ dick and squeezes hard enough to make Stiles see stars, have his knees, honest-to-god, buckle.

Then, Theo takes him by the shoulder, turns him around and pushes him against the door face first, using his whole body to pin him to it, grinding his hips nice and tight against Stiles’ ass. “You know better than to provoke me, Stiles,” Theo warns, hand still in his hair grabbing and pulling his head back, straining his neck in the most delicious way, “look at you gagging for it, dying to be fucked like a dirty little whore.”

Stiles cries out, arches his back to thrust his ass back into Theo’s hard dick. “What are you waiting for, you asshole,” he whines and it has him breathless, the way he can feel actual tears welling up in his eyes again, “fucking  _ touch me!” _

It takes a moment for Stiles’ brain to catch up to what happens after; he’s being pulled from the door, by Theo, feels the back of his thighs hitting a bunch of boxers just a mere feet away and lets his body sit back on it with the momentum of it - Theo’s hands are holding his arms so he doesn’t fall off and there’s a complaint ready on Stiles’ mind as he reaches out to hold the metal bars just by the toilet, when Theo cuts him off, “don’t move,” he hisses.

To Stiles’ absolute indignance and surprise, Theo unlocks the door, opens it, gets out and lets it close again.

Stiles’ mouth hangs open for a moment. He blinks a couple times in silence pulling all sorts of faces, “wh- Theo?  _ What the fuck?” _ once again it pierces through his daze and Stiles gets the impression that if his emotions get pushed around like this much more, he’s going to fucking pass out from exertion alone. 

What the fuck just happened? Did that motherfucker seriously just  _ leave? _

He stands up from half leaning half sitting on the boxes, stands there facing the door for a couple seconds, genuinely confused.

The moment he makes to go and figure out what the hell that was, the goddamned door opens again, and in comes Theo, putting his wallet back into his pocket. He throws something else in the sink on the way to Stiles without taking his eyes off him, and it catches Stiles’ attention for the fraction of a second it takes Theo to grab his face, push him back against the boxes and kiss any questions off his mouth.

It’s amazing how well it works, every time; Stiles fists the fabric of the front of Theo’s shirt in his hands and pulls him close, lets his weight fall on the boxes and when Theo’s hand comes to his thigh, Stiles lets him lift it, lets Theo lift both his legs and wraps them around Theo’s waist, to bring him closer, to feel him against his body, and not to have him leave ever again.

“Where did you go, Theo, what the hell?” Stiles manages to breathe against his lips, decides to stop fucking wasting time and gets his hands working on Theo’s jeans - he lets him, groans out a “ _ vending machine,” _ before kissing him again and Stiles fumbles at little with what he’s doing, stops for a second when he gets Theo’s fly undone.

Stiles feels like his brain is floating around in hot water in his head, feels the blood in his veins run so fast it heats him up head to toe, has him hot all over. He catches up to Theo, even as buzzed as he feels, doesn’t need to sneak a look at the sink again to see the condom and a bottle of lube _. _

“Shit,” Stiles breathes out, breaking off the kiss, eyes on the sink, hands on Theo’s neck, not letting him go, “they have  _ fucking lube _ in vending machines now?” 

Theo actually laughs at that, a little breathlessly, “what a time to be alive, isn’t it?” he replies against Stiles’ jaw before pulling away from Stiles to yank his jeans down his legs, manhandling him from the sitting position against the boxes, to turn and bend him over the metal rail by the toilet. Stiles grips it to catch himself, groans out both ways frustrated and turned on at the rough treatment.  _ Shit,  _ he is  _ so _ turned on.

“Last chance to back out,” Theo says as he glues himself over Stiles’ back to talk at his ear - bites down on his lobe, “last chance to tell me you’re not ready and you don’t want this.”

“I told you to fucking  _ touch me!” _ Stiles groans, turning his head to look back at him.

And Theo does, of course, he never really denies Stiles. Theo touches him like he was born for it, gentle but firm, drapes his whole body over Stiles’ back like a blanket weighting Stiles down to Earth when all he can feel is himself beginning to float away, clutching the arm Theo’s got around his shoulders, across his chest. He touches Stiles as he talks in his ear, tell him how good he’s being, promising him that he’s “ _ gonna make it feel so good, you’re being so good for me, taking it so well, kitten” _ . And Stiles thrives on every bit of it, wants to be good for Theo, whines and gasps at every single mellow word out of Theo’s mouth right into his ear, feels both grounded and like flying as Theo’s fingers work inside of him, getting him ready.

He’s a twist of heat from crying with how much he needs  _ more _ , needs to feel Theo properly, have him bury his cock inside and hear what he’d say then. His breathing is ragged, even without the sobs that are a near thing, he grips Theo’s arm desperately, tries to turn and look at him a little better when he pleads, “Please,  _ please _ Theo get in me, I need more.”

Theo never really denies Stiles.

Stiles doesn’t feel him for a moment, his head too all over the place to focus on anything except his breathing, the thumping of his chest, and he lack of Theo’s touch only serves to throw him further off balance, feel like he’s going to shake right off of his own body. Blindly his hand reaches back, trying to feel for Theo as he pants, tries to regain his balance.

“Are you okay?” Theo asks, and Stiles closes his eyes as he feels Theo’s hand holding his, their fingers intertwine as Theo moves back closer, lets Stiles take his hand until it’s close against his chest.

“Ye- yeah,” Stiles breathes, and it breaks off in a gasp as he feels Theo stepping up behind him, feels the tip of his dick against his ass.

_ Fuck , _ it’s going to happen, it’s going to happen, he’s- Theo’s going- it’s happening it’s.

“Do you feel,” Theo starts, his voice gets caught in this throat as he whispers in Stiles’ ear, body back over Stiles’ back, “how hard you make me? How can you think I’d trade you for anybody else in the world?”

Stiles melts, _absolutely_ _melts_ , eyes fluttering, moan escaping him before he can control himself and Theo pushes in just then. Slowly, steady. 

“ _ Ohhh _ my god,” Stiles cries, voice going higher, clutching Theo’s arm, his side, whichever piece of skin he can find and he can’t help his body from tensing up. The stretch feels impossible, and there’s a moment of panic in which Stiles is sure that this isn’t going to work, Theo is never going to fit, there’s  _ no way _ , what was he even thinking? 

“Theo, it feels too-” Stiles whines, tenses up, arches his back to contradict Theo’s movement, “it’s not gonna -  _ oh my god, _ Theo, you’re gonna fucking break me.”

It’s overwhelming and Stiles feels his chest tight. Theo’s arms come around his torso, his one hand still holding on to Stiles, and the other comes flat against his stomach. He pulls Stiles to him, gets him a bit more upright and the movement makes him sink a little further into Stiles’, has him crying out.

“Shh, I’m not gonna break you,” Theo reassures him, holds him still and close, as Stiles brings his head back, rests it on Theo’s shoulder, his breathing fast and his hands holding on to Theo as well. “Stiles, trust me, I promised I was gonna make it feel good, didn’t I?” 

Stiles only manages to nod in the middle of a whine, and Theo brings his hand lower still, to wrap around Stiles’ dick, starts moving up and down, slowly at first until he builds up a rhythm that has Stiles moving his hips slightly of his own accord.

“Better, yeah?” Theo breathes, lets Stiles relax his back down, lets him bend again and doesn’t stop moving the hand he has on Stiles’ cock.

“Yeah,” is the only thing Stiles can muster.

“Just trust me, babe, that’s- that’s all you need to do,” Theo moans, kisses Stiles’ on the cheek for a brief second, before he straightens back up, starts moving inside Stiles again, legs shaking with how much he wants to just  _ fucking take it _ . 

It builds up - it starts as a tense ball of heat in Stiles’ gut, a curious little thing beneath the discomfort and the pain he feels at first - amped by his freaking out, - that gradually grows the more Theo moves, the more Theo makes sounds and touches him and soon Stiles feels it like this barely contained hot energy gathering from everywhere in his body and in waves, keeps boiling his brain and twisting his insides and livewiring his body into moving of his own accord.

“The first time I saw you, I couldn’t keep my eyes off your ass,” Theo starts, brings a hand to one of his ass cheeks for good measure, squeezes. Stiles is almost too high on it to focus on it. “When-  _ fuck _ \- when I learnt who you were, it caught my attention even more,” Theo carries on, and Stiles feels his heart jump in place, but can’t bring himself to say any coherent words, besides the sounds Theo keeps fucking out of him. 

He bends over Stiles’ back to come closer to his ear, changes the position again, holds him tight, goes in deeper, “First few words, got hooked on your mouth and the way it moves.”

Stiles feels like he’s going to catch on fire, “Fuck, Theo what are you-  _ ugh _ .”

“I thought about all sorts of things,” a pause as Theo catches his breath, “that I’d like to do to you, all the time, whenever I saw you. Most of them looked exactly like this.”

“What are you trying to tell me?!” Stiles demands, brows knitted up, voice breaking and a worry in his brain that he can’t filter or reason away right now. What  _ is  _ he trying to tell him? That he finally got to his goal? Fuck Stiles and that’s it? He can’t - why would he tell him that now! Theo holds him closer still and Stiles hears the smile on his “ _ shhh.” _

“And when we talked - _ really talked _ \- for the first time, your brain is -  _ shit _ ” he chuckles, takes a second to breathe, “you’re the smartest person I know. I got a peak into your brain and you had me. Right then and there, Stiles,  _ you had me _ .” And all Stiles can think is how early on that was, how so much more else went down before Stiles even allowed himself to start lowering his defenses enough to let Theo remotely close, that conversation being the only exception to it. 

Stiles gets this incontrolable urge to hold on to him, turns his head, tries to get close to his lips and kiss him, but it’s hard with their movements, with everything going on in his brain, “I had you?” Stiles whispers, his heart going crazy in his chest and that ball of heat coiling together tensing up impossibly as Theo jerks him off, doesn’t stop the moments of his hips, holds him tight and just right to add up to the pressure building up and-

“You  _ have _ me,” Theo tells him, in a moan and Stiles cries out once again. It’s too much, for his brain, for his body for his  _ fucking heart _ , it’s too much.

“I’m gonna come, Theo,  _ please _ ,” he begs and Theo’s thrusts get more erratic the more his breathing on Stiles’ cheek feels out of control and he only tells him frantic “ _ Yeah, yeah, come on, baby, yeah.” _

Stiles can’t control it anymore - it’s a lot to handle; he comes with a gasp, body jerking and tensing all over and sending Theo right off the edge with him as Stiles still shaking with the aftershocks of it.

It takes them a while to get their breaths back. Stiles can feel Theo’s forehead against his shoulder, his worked up breathing matching his own - Stiles is the first to move, just a little nodge and Theo is moving away as well. He gets rid of the condom; there’s still a working toilet just in the corner surrounded by all the cleaning junk, crates and boxes in the room to flush it down on.

When he steps back, closer to Stiles, they’re both somewhat composed when they stop to look at each other again.

There’s a weird buzzing feeling going through Stiles, inducing a numbness that makes him feel inexplicably calm despite having every single reason to freak out, just about now, all things considered.

His brain is quiet, like suddenly all of the vicious thoughts are withdrawing; three little words ressonante in the midst of the buzz and weird serenity and those aren’t complicated or hard or too heavy. They sit right. They’re okay. They mean much more than what they mean, too.

“I have you,” Stiles repeats, quiet, dazed. Theo comes closer to kiss him, softly. After, the way he looks at Stiles is charged enough, Stiles feels it heating up his bones in the most gentle way, it makes him whisper “You have me too.”

And it sits right. It’s okay.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

**Author's Note:**

> they do sell lube in vending machines now, i saw that shit with my own eyes, isn't it a wonderful world?
> 
> [ come talk to me on tumblr, ily ](https://whereshiphappens.tumblr.com)


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